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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654861">maybe the sun waits for you to be told what to do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblerot/pseuds/noblerot'>noblerot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Death Stranding (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aphenphosmphobia, Light Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possession, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism, amelie like that is NOT what you were supposed to use your powers for, idk how to tag for it it's higgs using the mask to move sam around</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:35:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblerot/pseuds/noblerot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t deny there’s some kind of connection between them, even if it’s one of Higgs’ own making. Just wishes the guy would settle the fuck down a little.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>maybe the sun waits for you to be told what to do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for some reason this game specifically makes me want to write porn like nothing else.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Sam’s exhausted by the time he makes it back to his private room. It’s been a long fucking day. Deliveries back and forth across the mountains were bad enough, but of course Higgs had to show up at the end and make his day that much worse.</p><p>Bastard had thrown some fuck-off huge ocean creature at him and just floated around snapping pictures while Sam got knocked on his ass in the tar, over and over again. The thing is, even this doesn’t feel scary anymore so much as irritating. It’s routine: Higgs will inevitably show up at the worst part of his day, say some cryptic shit about their connection, generally give him hell and then fuck off again with nothing more than a mocking <em>see you soon.</em></p><p>Getting in the shower helps with his energy, less so with his irritation. What was even the point of all that? These theatrics aren’t really accomplishing much more than making him more sore and dirty than he needs to be, and that can’t possibly be Higgs’ master plan. Is he trying to lure him into a false sense of security or something, get him used to the routine?</p><p>The warm water washes the remains of the tar from Sam’s body, takes some of his tension with it. He can’t deny there’s some kind of connection between them, even if it’s one of Higgs’ own making. Just wishes the guy would settle the fuck down a little.</p><p>He lets the water run until his muscles are at least starting to approach relaxation. Good thing no one at Bridges has given him shit about wasting water, at least not yet. By the time he’s dried off and out of the shower, he’s actually in an alright mood.</p><p>Sam checks himself in the mirror like usual. No new injuries, no new marks. Came out of that pretty good, all things considered. He starts to get dressed, but only makes it as far as pulling his boxers on before there’s a subtle snapping sound and suddenly, there’s another person behind him in the mirror.</p><p>“He-<em>llo</em>, Sam.” Comes the familiar drawl from behind him. He whips around and sure enough, as if he hadn’t had his fill, Higgs Monaghan is standing in his room.</p><p>Sam knows that he should probably be more concerned by this, but he’s just so damn tired. And Higgs looks so incongruous in this domestic space, he doesn’t seem like a threat at all. “The fuck are you doing here?”</p><p>“Told you I’d see you soon, didn’t I?” He gives a dramatic little bow, cape fluttering behind him. “What, you didn’t think you were safe here, did y—”</p><p>“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.”</p><p>That, for once, shuts him up.</p><p>Sam had been joking, mostly, hadn’t meant to strike such a chord. But the effect is so instant that he must have hit close to home. Higgs starts babbling immediately, the kind of empty talk he always starts on when he’s about to lose a fight.</p><p>It’s almost endearing. But Sam knows by now, Higgs is most unpredictable when he feels out of control. And he’s way too damn tired to put up with any more of it. “Cut the bullshit. What do you actually want?”</p><p>Higgs goes quiet, his voice suddenly low. “You wouldn’t give me what I want.”</p><p>“Try me. I’m a generous man.”</p><p>It’s like a switch is clicked. Higgs regains himself suddenly, snaps to attention, draws himself back up to full height. The air crackles and then he’s jumped close, too close, his face nearly against Sam’s ear. He inhales deep, smelling him again. “And what if I want to touch you?” To illustrate, he moves his hands slowly towards him, as if intending to hold him by the hips. As if they’re slow dancing. Sam forces himself to hold still until Higgs’ hands are nearly on him, his skin burning--then he can’t help it, he flinches away. He takes a step back and watches Higgs grow nastily pleased with himself, thinking that he’s proven his point.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right.” He tries to keep his voice even despite the physical response. His body still prickles, on edge from the closeness. “That one’s a no.”</p><p>He hears the rasp of Higgs taking a breath through his mask, about to say some bullshit. But Sam just keeps going, cuts him off. “Ask for something else.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You heard me. You can’t touch me, but that’s not about <em>you</em> and you know it, so don’t get all weird. Ask for something else.” Higgs is silent, watching him warily, so he just kind of keeps going. “Hey, if it’s just a sex thing, there are other ways—”</p><p>That seems to snap him out of thought. He throws his head back and laughs, not the little chuckle he sometimes does before a fight but a full sound that rumbles through the filter of his mask. “Oh, Sam.” He purrs. “Sam, Sam, Sam. Bet you’re not so generous as you think.”</p><p>Higgs takes off the golden mask with a flourish, revealing his face underneath. He’s as decorated as usual, kohl flaring from his eyes like the trail of a comet. “I want you to trust me.” He says, and holds the mask out to Sam.</p><p>Sam eyes it warily. He knows what Higgs can do with that thing, remembers the sharp pain of it holding his body in the air. It’s not an experience he’s particularly eager to repeat. “How do I know you’re not just gonna try to kill me again?”</p><p>“You don’t. You just gotta trust me. That’s the game, Sam.” Higgs is holding the mask out like an olive branch, staring at him intently with those bright blue eyes.</p><p>He realizes, for what it’s worth, that this is genuine. Whatever Higgs might be (and Sam has some choice words on the subject) he’s not a liar, would probably object to being called one.</p><p>“My turn, then.” Sam takes a step closer. It’s a surprisingly nice idea, trusting him. “I want you to stop if I say so.”</p><p>Higgs nods. “Though I think, Sammy—” and there it is again, that little catlike grin breaking through the serious moment, “you seem like you’d prefer if you couldn’t.”</p><p>The idea sends a shiver through him. But his enemy is still his enemy. “Higgs,” he growls in warning, “I’m saying you can fuck me. Not fuck around with me.”</p><p>That grin turns into a wide open mouth, another loud laugh. “Alright, alright. Scout’s honor, I’ll let you go. Won’t do anything you don’t want.” He shakes the mask at Sam again.</p><p>There’s a sense that this is it. Moment of truth. He can turn this down and they can go back to…trying to kill each other like usual, he supposes.</p><p>Or. Or he tries the rope instead of the stick.</p><p>Sam takes the mask. The second his fingers touch it there’s a little spark, like static. He watches Higgs’ intent, eager look as he raises it to his face. There’s no catch or band, no way to attach it, so he just presses it against his face.</p><p>It clings to him like a magnet, that weird chiralium tingle now buzzing up his jaw. But other than that, it doesn’t really feel like it’s doing anything.</p><p>And then Higgs snaps his fingers.</p><p>The effect is instant. Sam feels—his body feels—both weightless and impossibly heavy. Too heavy for him to move. When he tries, absolutely nothing happens. Then his body, without any input at all from him, sits down on the bed. He can still feel his body, still feel through it. The air of the room and the texture of the sheets on his skin is still there. If anything, it’s more vivid. It’s just that the motion of his body seems to no longer have anything to do with him at all. It’s not like strings pulling at him, more like…more like his body itself has decided to move, and he’s just along for the ride.</p><p>His hand raises in front of him, turning back and forth in a gesture that can only be Higgs. “How is it?” Higgs asks, with genuine curiosity under that predatory tone. Sam realizes, abruptly, that he can still move his mouth under the mask.</p><p>“Weird.” He says, his voice still clear through the mask. “Not bad.”</p><p>“You ready to have some fun?”</p><p>Higgs doesn’t wait for an answer. He tilts his head, just slightly, and then Sam’s hand is trailing down his own neck. It pauses for a second to press firm, but then continues its exploration.</p><p>It both is and isn’t like touching himself. It’s not unusual for Sam to feel himself up, but he’s never this slow about it. Always takes it as fast and rough as he can bear, trying to be efficient about it. But now…it’s the familiar feel of his own hand, his own calloused palm, but so slow. Thorough, exploratory as it kneads at his chest, deliberately avoiding his nipples. A little growl slips out of him, beneath the mask. He wants to push forward into the touch, wants to move his hands right where he wants them, but he can’t move. His hands don’t so much as stutter in their motions, no matter how he tries.</p><p>The grin has gone from Higgs’ face, now. He looks focused, staring at Sam with blatant lust. He’s not mirroring the motions, but every so often he moves—a nod, a flick of the hand, as if he’s conducting Sam’s body.</p><p>His left hand is wandering now, tracing over the dense muscle down his stomach, pinching or scratching every so often. Is this what Higgs <em>wants</em> to do, how he wants to touch him? How he would? He tries to imagine it, but there’s no mistaking his rough hands for Higgs’ slender, clever ones.</p><p>The other hand finally grazes his nipple, just barely. Higgs doesn’t miss his sudden, shaky exhale. Carefully, he returns Sam’s fingers to that spot and rubs it, rolls it between his fingers. Sam can’t take it, wants to move, wants to push into the touch or tear his hands away. But his body can’t even shake. Can only keep going until it nearly hurts underneath the pleasure. Wonders if he could come just from this, doesn’t really want to find out.</p><p>“You like that, huh?” He tries goading him on, hoping for—he doesn’t exactly know what. More, anything.</p><p>That sharp smile returns, a sinful look on Higgs. “Maybe I do. Maybe you do, too.”</p><p>Suddenly, his arms are heavy. They drop, fall to his sides, and stay pinned there as if weighted down. He can’t move them, can’t move anything. Can’t do anything but sit there, frozen in place, and notice how warm he feels all over, how wet he is. Higgs has noticed, too.</p><p>“The fuck,” he starts to growl, then finds his jaw suddenly held firm by the mask. He can’t move to speak, can barely move his throat enough to breathe.</p><p>“Oh, were you enjoying yourself? My apologies if I misunderstood.”</p><p>Sam glares at him. Nothing else he can do, held completely still like this. “Thought we were saying what we want, Sam.”</p><p>The tightness in his jaw dissolves again, the hold of the mask loosening. For a moment there’s no sound but the ragged gasp of his breath. Higgs waits in patient silence, content to watch him struggle until he begs. But it doesn’t take more than a moment. Sam isn’t sure what he intends to come out of his mouth, but it isn’t--</p><p>“I want you to touch me.”</p><p>The admission feels too heavy, too honest for what they’re doing. It’s as if by saying it out loud he’s made it true. He’s surprised by how much he means it. Even if neither of them can get what they want, he means it.</p><p>Higgs feels it too, a look of something like gratitude flashing across his face. When he speaks again there’s a real warmth to his playful drawl. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He snaps his fingers once more and Sam’s body goes suddenly weightless again. Still, he can’t move anything but his mouth.</p><p>Only one hand returns to his chest. It’s a relief, even though it’s not enough. The other moves unbidden under the waistband of his boxers. It slides them down before he can think to protest, as Higgs kneels in front of him.</p><p>It’s the sort of thing he would never do by himself. And that makes it easier to believe that there’s someone else touching him, that there’s another person pushing his legs open, leaving him on display.</p><p>Higgs licks his lips, the bastard. As he does, he makes Sam’s hand slide lower. It’s not hot at first so much as experimental, his fingers brushing everywhere to see what will make him react, not enough pressure to really get him anywhere. His own traitorous hand spreads him apart, giving Higgs a good view. If he could move, he’d want to curl in on himself and hide.</p><p>But he can’t, and just thinking about it makes heat flare inside him. Nothing he can do but be still here, completely vulnerable. There’s no way Higgs can’t see how wet he is. He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to <em>smell</em> Sam.</p><p>“Pervert,” he says, but it comes out breathy.</p><p>Higgs laughs at that. “Aw, you love it.”</p><p>He never touches himself like this, never this gentle. His hand is almost petting, spreading wetness around. The touch never stops moving, tracing him like Higgs is trying to commit the sight to memory. His hand feels like it’s everywhere at once, that lightly grazing touch that doesn’t really give him enough to get off on. Fingers dip between his folds just for a moment, but it’s not what he wants. Faintly, he’s aware of a growling, desperate sound coming from his own throat.</p><p>Of course Higgs takes notice of his noises, of the way he can’t stop straining even though it’s no use. “You’re always so wound up, Sammy boy. Come on, relax a little.”</p><p>Two fingers curl on either side of his clit, rubbing back and forth, stroking him. It’s good, so fucking good, and nothing like what he would do. He wonders, again, if this is what Higgs would do, how he wants to touch him. If he can—</p><p>“Can you feel this?”</p><p>The motion slows a little as Higgs turns a shade redder, clearly finding it suddenly more difficult to concentrate. “Well, yeah. That a problem?”</p><p>“No.” It’s the opposite of a problem, a new layer on top of everything else, overwhelming. That Higgs now knows the feeling of his body, the texture and heat of his skin. That he might be feeling even an echo of the pleasure that Sam is. “It’s—good.”</p><p>“Good.” Sam’s free hand slides slowly, inexorably downward, more theatrical than he would ever be of his own will. He surrenders to it, lets it tease lower and lower until there are finally fingers pressed to his entrance. “Because I can feel all of this.” Higgs murmurs, and makes him push in.</p><p>It’s his own fingers, of course. He knows the feeling, knows how much he can take. But it feels different somehow, deeper, maybe just some trick of his mind but he’s already panting for it, mouth open beneath the mask.</p><p>His hand moves languidly, slower than he would ever fuck himself. But maybe he’s gotten used to Higgs’ exploratory pace, because there’s something nice about it. Something luxurious about being made to ride it out and really take in every sensation, really feel the rough drag of his fingers inside him.</p><p>“Fuck, that’s good.” He’s surprised by how rough his own voice sounds. Clearly Higgs likes it, shivers visibly from the praise.</p><p>“This all for me?” Higgs’ voice is becoming breathy and frantic, as if he’s the one getting fucked. “You get this wet every time we fight, Sam?”</p><p>Sam would roll his eyes if he could. Instead he changes the subject. “You sure like saying my name, huh.”</p><p>“Sam.” Higgs moans, like just saying it gives him some kind of relief. “Sam.” He tilts his head back and suddenly Sam’s fingers are curling. “Ah, Sam—”</p><p>Sam nearly whines when his third finger presses in, moving and stretching and leaving him blessedly full. The motion of his hand is getting rougher, more desperate, pushing in and out of him at a fevered pace. Higgs’ hands would be less calloused, his fingers longer, but if he tries he can almost imagine. Part of him aches to close his eyes to better imagine it, but he can’t stop watching Higgs’ expression. The way his eyes flutter, the way his mouth hangs slightly open. He’s seen him make plenty of lascivious faces, sure, but never like this, so completely relaxed and blissed out. It’s intoxicating, knowing that he’s the cause of it.</p><p>His body winds taut, tense, ready to snap. Like if he could just move, just roll his hips down, he’d be able to push himself over the edge. Surely Higgs can feel him tightening, must know he’s getting close.</p><p>Then his body stops moving. His hand pulls out without warning and Sam practically snarls as he feels himself clench around nothing. If he could move—but he can’t, of course.</p><p>“You close?” Higgs smiles up at him innocently, bats his lashes.</p><p>Sam could kick him. He’s still so wound up, feels his body tensing and twitching unbidden. “I was about to come, you fucking--”</p><p>Higgs shakes his head, cuts him off before Sam can call him some particularly choice words. “Got a good idea. You’re fine with the mask touching you, right?” He gestures regally up to Sam’s face, palm open and waiting.</p><p>“Think so.” The mask has been fine so far, nothing harsh or painful about its contact with his skin. It prickles with that staticky sensation again now, as Higgs reaches for it.</p><p>“Trust me.” He says, and just like that, Sam’s body is his own again. His arms prickle slightly when he stretches, experimentally, but they do obey. The mask falls away easily now, no longer clinging to him. “Give it here.”</p><p>He does. Trust Higgs, that is, and give him back his mask. He stays kneeling to receive it. Higgs slides it back onto his face with a slight sigh of relief and oh, Sam suddenly understands what he’s planning.</p><p>He lifts his hood back up. “Case you need to grab onto something.”</p><p>Real considerate, Sam is about to say. But the contact cuts him off.</p><p>It’s like a shock all through him, that same kind of static as wherever the mask had touched his skin before but so much more intense now, concentrated in his dick. He makes a ragged, wordless sound.</p><p>“Your move, Sammy.” Higgs purrs through the mask, and he doesn’t need to ask twice. Sam cups the back of his head, pulling on the hood, and uses that as leverage to grind down against the cold, hard surface.</p><p>Close as he was, he won’t last long. But even aside from that it’s good, better than he would have thought. It’s such a detailed work, all the little ridges of bone and teeth providing delicious friction. He rubs against it, feels the metal getting warm beneath him, feels all those little sparks in his clit, feels it coiling inside him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Higgs is panting, “That’s it, Sam.” Every word, every moan reverberates through the mask and up into him. The gold shines wet where he’s rubbing himself on it.</p><p>He must look a mess, but Higgs won’t stop gazing up at him. Those blue eyes are dark and blown with unabashed want but there’s something more than simple hunger in the way he’s looking at Sam. Something that makes Sam grab the fabric and pull him close as he comes unraveled.</p><p>It’s electric. Pulses through him, white hot. He surrenders to it completely, clutching at Higgs like an anchor. The pleasure leaves him unable to think and he shoves his hips down harder, automatically, rutting against the mask, riding it out. Every little twitch carries that same static, crackling up his spine until it suffuses his entire body. Until he's entirely exhausted and relaxed.</p><p>“So good,” Higgs murmurs, and the rumble of the mask on his oversensitive dick almost hurts. Sam lets go, tries, clumsily, to lean back on the bed so he’s a little less vulnerable.</p><p>God, but Higgs is a sight. The mask and hood might cover most of his face now, but his eyes shine out brilliantly from the charcoal smudge of his makeup. Sam thinks of what he’s said about his face, thinks about what the mask means to him. And he’d just—well--marked it, in a way that somehow feels more personal than if he’d really come on Higgs’ face. He feels a new spark of heat at that, something primal and possessive he’s not really ready to think about.</p><p>For once Higgs is completely speechless, the only sound his quiet panting through the mask as he gazes up at Sam, making no move to stand. He looks good on his knees. But behind the lust still written on his face is something unreadable, almost scared.</p><p>Stubborn as they both might be, Sam’s feeling charitable after his orgasm. He moves over on the bed, gestures to the empty space. Higgs doesn’t move. Hm.</p><p>“So,” he tries, “Should we talk about that?”</p><p>Higgs makes a face like a deer in headlights and blinks at him once, twice—then disappears in a shower of sparks.</p><p>Figures. And he didn’t even get to return the favor.</p><p>“See you soon, then.” He calls to the empty room.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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